That Kiss
by Wild Blood Rose
Summary: Wendy Darling is getting married and Peter Pan only calls into Neverland those he needs - and Nettle Morris is no exception. While Peter is restricted from the normal world, it is only Nettle that can convince Wendy whom she really loves...[now complete]
1. Prologue

Ahem This is only a little prologue thingamy – just thought you ought to know.

'Silence all! For a Wendy's goodbye.'

Wendy glared up defiantly into blue eyes of Hook. His lips were curled into a snarl, his thick black curls framing his face in a fierce lion's mane. The pirates were silent. The Lost Boys were silent. Wendy bowed her head, looking down at Peter. His eyes were so sad and grey, so tender and innocent, and yet scarred, as if he were a child whose childhood dreams had been utterly denied of them.

He would not look at her, nor did would he cry, as she did, the tears splashed down her face and her body shook.

'Peter.' She whispered, suddenly realising that whatever time she had was running short and she must give him what she knew was his.

'I'm sorry I must grow up. I cannot forever live in your world, because it is yours. I wish it were mine as well.' She paused, biting her tongue to push back the tears.

'This is yours.' She whispered, her hand cupped over something, at her breast.

In a swift, strong movement, Hook seized her wrist and pulled her up, eyeing the fist that undoubtedly clutched some last resort inside.

'Tis just a thimble.' Wendy whispered, her eyes wide and innocent.

Hook rolled his eyes but looked and saw that she was not lying.

'How like a girl!' he said dismissively, inspiring laughter from some of the pirates.

'Of course, my dear,' he said, pulling his lips in a pout like a babies and mimicking a pathetic toddler voice, 'Give Peter Pan your _precious thimble._'

He released her wrist, and she sank back down to lean over him, her hair falling softly over his face, her lips at his ear.

'This is yours.' She whispered, 'And always will be.'

Gently she pressed her cupped hand to his cheek and, hesitantly, she pushed the hidden kiss onto Peter's lips. In that moment, the two of them travelled to heaven and back, just as Aunt Millicent said they would. There was no one but them, and nothing else to be bothered about. It was simply Wendy and Peter and the shared kiss, that was hers and his and theirs and no one else's, and they were lost to the sound of the sea and the glint of her own life to come and his that would always be.

            And suddenly Peter knew that Hook was wrong, and that Wendy did love him after all, and that, true as it may be that Wendy would grow up, he would love her too, for always. And that is when the spark began to shine. 

….Lalala. Now, onto chapter one…


	2. Nettle

New story and original characters © Wild Blood Rose 

Everything else © J.M.Barrie (THE MAN!!!)

Chapter One The Tarot Player

Nettle Morris was unaware at having woken up. Her lightly golden and carefully rolled curlers walloped her forehead as she sat up, and in the moment of her doing so, the life that she knew was changed forever. It rolled away as the other threads of possibility snapped and left her, leaving her with the only option that was left. Consciousness. Something, she was not sure what, but something had woken her: something rather unnatural and strange.

The air around her seemed to be holding its breath, and Nettle knew not why, but she felt the need to do the same. She clutched the blankets to her throat and waited for her mind to decide whether she was being stupid of if she should get out of bed and inspect every corner of her darkened room.

            She looked around suspiciously, eyeing her stuffed animals. They seemed to be hiding something although she could not guess what. She was particularly watchful of the china dolls hidden under the patchwork quilt Uncle Madstrom had given her for Christmas.

The dolls were fine in daylight - their hand-painted faces looked lovely and pretty, innocent and round. As light faded however, so did Nettle's joy for them. Their eyes became ghostly and watchful as moonlight shone on their glass eyes, and their small teeth and open lips, while delightful in the day became greedy and hungry for her flesh as the dark flooded her room - their pale china arms stretched out to her in longingly - and, who knew if moonlight brought movement to the dolls as she slept.  And so all were hidden under the unused quilt to prevent their faces from haunting her.

            Now that that thought had been pushed into her thinking, she half-wanted to pull the covers off them all to tell them off for scaring her. That thought was then countered by the thought of the dolls springing on her as she lifted the blanket - and how she would smash them all to rid herself of their prying hands - only to find that - like the undead they would continue to haunt her - their broken bodies re-piecing to exact their revenge.

            Nettle shivered. She _wished _her imagination wouldn't take over so easily. It was impossible to sleep after a dark thought like that. Growling at herself, she half-toppled out of bed to light the oil lamp that she liked illuminating her room.

            Now that she was twelve and going on thirteen, her father was thoroughly disapproving of it, and frowned upon her easily-scared nature. Nettle did not want to grow up at all. She wanted to remain a child for always so that the troubles of adulthood did not burden her with responsibility - and then bossiness, business, and later on wrinkles, snooty disapproval and sneers.

            Darkness was  something relatively new to her - because it wasn't until recently that she'd been made to put up with it. Now though, now that she had scared herself, she made herself pull open the glass casing of the lamp and light to wick.

She traced a rune of secrecy on the door of the case as she closed it and carried to her bed - the sense that something was there strangely emphasised.

Picking up her book from the twisted sheets she held it to the light and tried to read.

Finding she couldn't she looked up from her book and blinked hard. _What was that?_

For a moment, she could have sworn she'd seen a boy at the foot of her bed a boy, strangely clad in ivy and other leaves. She shook herself. _Ghosts now_? she thought to herself.

_Your being stupid._ She told herself angrily. _Stop it. _

Furious with herself, she wrenched the tangled sheets off the bed and crossed to her bookshelf to retrieve a textbook: perhaps one of those would at least bore her to sleep.

            She turned, twisting a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and bit back a scream, dropping the book with a heavy thump on the floor.

That as no ghost. Ghosts were not that solid. Hovering before her, and inch or two above the posts of her bed, was a boy, a little older than she, his golden curls sun bleached, his tanned arms strong and yet fairly thin. Startling blue eyes, unlike Nettle's brown, and a smile that was young, gently teasing her, almost taunting and yet, so friendly, so reckless and slightly arrogant. The smile alone made her want to laugh for the joy of living. She had glimpsed correctly: he was covered in an assortment of leaves that ran in a diagonal line across his stomach and covered thickly all the parts that were appropriate. Vines ran down his legs in an array of green leaves that chased each other in winding patterns and it made Nettle wrinkle her nose as she thought what her parents might think if they came into her room at that moment.

She looked up, quite unafraid. It was as if she'd seen his face before.

His blue eyes stared down at her, looking her up in down in a manner that was so penetrating and deep that she felt naked and embarrassed.

'Who are you?' she said, her voice soft an whispery. She didn't want to frighten him away, and as she spoke, she knew that that was not possible.

He did not answer, he merely watched her, his eyes latching onto hers and pulling her into his gaze, and she watched, unnerved.

            Slowly but clearly, he extended his hand and she watched his rough palm, hardly knowing why she felt so excited, but knowing also that there was no choice about whether she took the hand or not. He wanted her to take it and take it she did.

Reaching out, her smooth palm was placed in his, and he held it gently but firmly, then he pulled her in and she was jerked forward.

            The ground was gone from under her - and so was sight - everything was spinning, whirling in her head, twisting and making her feel sick and dizzy. 'Stop!' she cried, his fist clamped tightly around her hand. But he did not.

Nettle tugged, but his grip would not slack, and quietly, in the base of her brain she heard the tip-toeing voice of a stranger.

'A one who can re-unite The Pan with his Wendy is a very good Nettle indeed…'

And so begins my fanfiction for Peter Pan. Don't worry Wendy lovers - I'm getting to her shortly…           


	3. A Weed and a story through an Oval

Gingerly, Nettle opened one eye. Her breath was shallow as if she'd run a marathon and her heart was beating fast. Her hand was still clasped tightly in the boy's and, as she looked up, he let go gently.

Wherever she was, she wasn't in her room. She looked around, her eyes taking in the large trees, and softly decomposing floor under her feet. It was suddenly very warm and humid, and she felt herself down shakily, trying to steady her frantically beating chest. She was crouching on the rotting leaf floor of a forest, surrounded by a ring of trees, their bark a rich brown and their leaves bright green and colourful, clearly intending to live their lives to the fullest extend and it made nettle smile to look at them. Ferns peeked around the large roots of the trees, and, as she looked, Nettle saw a brightly shining spark glittering with a light all of it's alone between the furry leaves.

She stood up carefully and looked at the boy again. The light was shining through his golden curls, making them look like a halo, and giving him a misleadingly angelic appearance – although this was deterred by the impression Nettle got that he was quite a way into his teens. As his feet touched slowly on the ground, she saw he was tall too.

            She laughed then, at the glint of mischief in his eye, as he sized her up, looking pleased with himself.

'Who _are _you?' she breathed in wonder. 'How… what… where are we?'

The boy smiled. 'What's your name, little weed?'

Nettle frowned haughtily. 'Weed?' exclaimed, indignantly. 'I'm not a weed.'

The boy smiled again, and there was a mystery in his large blue eyes that slightly unnerved her. 'What are you then if you aren't a weed? Tink said you were a weed. Is she not right?'

'No!' Nettle said crossly, not bothering to ask who on earth "Tink" was, 'I'm Nettle.'

The boy looked her up and down, the penetrating stare leaving her more naked than she would have been without her clothes.

'Nettle,' he mused thoughtfully. 'But a Nettle _is _a weed.'

Nettle opened her mouth to protest but then closed it, feeling rather annoyed.

'Yes,' she retorted finally, and, a little too late added, 'And I can sting like a nettle too!'

The boy smiled at her once more, those eyes suddenly so full of laughter and life that Nettle forgot his gentle teasing and laughed too.

'Of course you sting,' he said, 'Why else would you be here?'

'Where is here?' Nettle asked, ignoring his question, 'And what's _your_ name?'

'Peter,' the boy pronounced proudly, thrusting out his chin proudly and making his hands fly in a wild gesture to rest on his hips, 'Pan.' He finished.

'Peter Pan.' Nettle smiled, rolling the name over her tongue like some rare food.

'Peter Pan,' she repeated, finding that the words meant so much to her and so little all at once. 'So where is here? Where are we?' she pressed him.

'Where?' Peter repeated, not quite mimicking her, but as if asking the question himself.

'We're at home.' He said after some thought, 'In Neverland. In the glade of the Lost Boys.'

'Lost...?'

'…Boys.' Peter finished. 'Tink said we ought to bring you here. She says you'll bring us Wendy. Is that so?'

Nettle frowned, before a phrase that even she had never heard before rolled out of her mouth. 'If you wish it.' She whispered, making Peter's eyes sparkle with delight and laugh out loud.

'That must be the Nettle!' he laughed, mouth curling at the corners.

'And you shall bring me my Wendy!' he crowed.

'Wendy?' Nettle enquired. 'What Wendy? And who is _Tink_?'

Peter gave her look that left her feeling ignorant and stupid.

'Sorry.' She mumbled.

Peter shrugged. 'You didn't know. How could you if you were in London all this time?'

Nettle shook her head in puzzlement, suddenly aware that her hair was still confined to the softly covered wire curlers and she blushed furiously, her fingers fumbling to get them out.

'Tink!' Peter called as Nettle released the last of her curls, so the fell down her back in long, silky ringlets the colour of chocolate.

Nettle looked around wildly, and, saw the glowing light that she had noticed out of the corner of her eye stir slowly in the ferns, then fly out: a bright little spark.

'A firefly?' Nettle asked curiously, eyeing the spark as it came to rest just above Peter's golden curled head. Then she gasped.

It was no firefly. Light emanated from her, certainly, giving off a bright, half-blinding glow that made nettle blink to look closer.

A tiny, slender figure, bright little blue dots for eyes, an angelic face that was pretty and sweet, lips pursed in a smile that bore all the mischievous light that glowed in Peter's smile. Her dress, made from Bay leaves and bound with a thong of very thin leather exaggerated her tiny frame, and her hair, twisted to the back of her head in a delicate manner showed off her high cheek bones. And of course, there were the wings. Great gossamer things of great beauty, the gold veins glittering in the light that came from her, so delicate and dainty, and beating rapidly in the air with no visible signs of effort.

Nettle tried to close her wide mouth, but couldn't… 'A…a… f….faery!' she spluttered, her eyes brimming with excitement.

'A real fairy! A real one! I didn't think they…' she stopped as Peter made a sudden movement, as if to cut off her flow of words with his hand.

'Did I say something wrong?' Nettle asked as Peter sighed at her having not finished her sentence.

'Yes.' He growled ominously – not unfriendly, but more in a warning sort of way.

'Everytime someone says that… says there's no such thing as… as…'

Nettle waited, and he sighed in exasperation and turned to Tink desperately.

Tinkerbelle took the hint and spelled F-A-E-R-I-E-S in the air, the glittering letters lingering for a moment before sliding away in one languid motion.

'Everytime someone says that a faery somewhere dies.'  

Nettle watched in wonder, put the words together in her head and made a mental note never to say them in the same sentence ever again. She nodded slowly so he understood that she knew, and he smiled weakly. 'Hook's been fouling the air with that ever since he gutted the crocodile. Tink's been lucky it hasn't hit her yet.'

Nettle chewed her lip, not knowing what to say. She had no idea what the significance of the word 'Hook' meant to her… it meant nothing as a word, but when spoken it sent a cold dark shiver down her spine.

Peter had lapsed into silence, taking out a strange set of pipes, made of hollowed bamboo and bound in a line of seven. He blew each, so that a different note was expelled each time, and Nettle smiled. The sound was somehow familiar and comforting.

'Who… who is this _Wendy _then?' she asked, curiously. 'Is she another faery?'

Peter smiled sadly, drawing his pursed lips away from the pipe. He seemed to be considering what to tell her… perhaps how much to tell her, and Tink with him. She could not speak for lack of the right sized lungs and mouth, but a faint utter of tinkling bells that Peter could evidently understand issued from her.

Peter nodded to her and Tink came to stand on his shoulder, still making the faint tinkling sounds.

'Wendy is a girl.' Peter said finally, but Nettle could tell that she was much more than that just by the way he spoke her name.

'And…?' she prompted helpfully.

'And,' Peter sighed heavily, 'She is the girl I am in love with.'

Nettle was going to frown and laugh and say that it wasn't possible for him to be in love because boys his age weren't ready to… but she didn't.

She didn't because there was no denying that he did. He was in love with this girl, whoever she was and there was no questioning about whether it was true or not.

'Go on,' she said, smiling encouragingly.

'I fell in love with her the moment I saw her on that windowsill.' – at this his voice became misty and dreamy, his eyes focused, not on anything that was before him, but on that image of her framed in the window, her long wavy hair falling over her face, blue eyes dancing with his, mouth creased in an effort to smile.

'She could tell stories. She could fight. Fly. Laugh, love. But I could not. I was… incomplete.' His eyes blurred as he remembered.

'Ungallant and deficient.' He whispered.

Nettle suddenly hear those very words echo around her head, except they were not spoken by Peter, they were spoken by a girl, a girl in whose voice she heard elements of her own and smiled.

'Have you heard of hidden kisses?' Peter asked suddenly, and his eyes darkened in frustration when she shook her head.

'I suppose I'll have to show you then.' He said, and glanced at Tink on his shoulder, who giggled and rose above them, dancing about in the air to leaving a glittering trail behind her. Unlike the words she had traced earlier, the trail stayed where it was: a large oval shape that lowered and shimmered as the light caught it.

Nettle watched, bemused.

Peter put a hand to his shoulder where his costume of vines wound, and plucked from it an acorn.

Nettle watched as he through it at the oval, and, where it should have gone through, it instead landed in the dead centre and remained there, sending ripples through the shape, so that instead of showing the trees behind, it blurred, and a cloud began seep, swirling outward from the acorn and enveloping the inside of the oval. It shuddered, and then became a flat screen.

Dark shapes began to flow across, and slowly they became clearer and Nettle found herself looking at Peter once more, and she cocked her head, looking on. He was sitting at the foot of a richly polished mahogany bed, with elegant designs swirling across the bedstead. In front of Peter, sat a girl, small and very pretty, with bright blue eyes that were lost to an ocean, long flowing brown hair, naturally wavy, unlike Nettle's, which had to be confined to curlers to produce there merest kink. She was smiling, strangely as she passed a needle through Peter's foot which was clasped in her hand, and Nettle winced, wondering what she could be doing until the boy stood up and flipped something – Nettle realised his shadow onto the wall and made it copy him….

And so the story of Peter Pan came before Nettle. John, Michael, Neverland, The Lost Boys, the mermaids, Tigerlily and the Indians, Hook, The Jolly Roger and its crew, the faeries, Tinkerbelle's act of courageousness, and her jealousy of Wendy slowly into one of loving acceptance.

Peter and Hook fighting… Hook flying… Peter… dying. Was he defeated? She watched with her hands to her mouth. Watched as Wendy saved his life… and as the hidden kiss left her and was imposed on him. Nettle watched as the boy who never grew up fell, torturously in love, watched as Wendy stood at her own window and watched the boy her heart belonged to left her…

The next few years passed in a blur, Peter watching often at her window, and finding that… somehow as Wendy grew so did he, because of their kiss. Their own kiss that was shared between them bonded them.

Nettle watched, a shadow shrinking around her heart suddenly a horrible pain in her chest. The oval spluttered and faded, the acorn dropped and Peter went to pick it up, his head drooped.

'Oh Peter.' Nettle whispered sadly. 'I'm so sorry… I…'

'She's getting married.' Peter whispered dully, his eyes suddenly dead and hard, mouth set in a straight line.

'Married?' Nettle cried, in indignation, but not knowing why her feelings were so.

'How old is she?'

Peter frowned. He did not know clearly.

'Time passes strangely in the Neverland, and I do not know time as well as you. Only that night gives way to new days.'

Nettle smiled.

'You'll help then?' Peter asked in a soft, sad voice.

Suddenly a great power resounded in Nettle, making her want to yell, leap and cry. She did not know why, but it became apparent to her, after seeing the sad story, that she could not, would not let it happen. Wendy, whoever she was, would not marry – not if she could help it!

Nettle jutted her jaw forward and drew herself up. 'Married? Huh! Over my dead body! Don't worry, Peter Pan, Wendy Darling is NOT getting married, mark my words!'

Peter grinned.

….So there you are. Will Nettle succeed in winning Wendy over? You'll just have to wait to find out!!

Wild Blood Rose X


	4. Flight to Wendy's Window

Nettle let the wind loosen her tight curls, and let her nightdress whip about her. She didn't care. Flying. Flying was the happiest thing she had ever experienced. It made her breast flutter in wild excitement, made her breathe deeply in the crisp night air as she, Peter and Tink made their way from Neverland.

Nettle let out a whoop of exultation – it was the most amazing feeling in the world. This. Freedom. The long, twisting thrill ride of flight. The endless, beautiful light, and the utter certainty that she was not going to fall.

This. This, surely, must be bliss, flying, surveying the land that she was so high above.

'Nettle!' Peter called excitedly, 'Nettle, watch!'

Nettle turned in mid-air to look as Peter flew at a pink and orange tinged cloud, landed on it and began to jump higher and higher, so high that he could perform a number of acrobatics, swirling and somersaulting for his own delight and hers.

She laughed and flew close to the gold-tinted waters of the sea, making her hand swirl the surface gently, her eyes dancing in excitement as she watched, her breath caught in her chest. Pure, unadulterated peace and happiness could be achieved in air. How could anyone find sorrow when you could ride the winds, bounce through the clouds and walk on water?

Nettle looked up into Peter's bright blue eyes and understood why. Certainly, this was a pleasurable experience, but moreso was love. She could see it resounding Peter's eyes. Love was in his heart, in his head, in his life, laugh. Nettle had never seen love, nor did she want to, at that age, but her mother had always said, _you can never choose who you fall in love with._ She always said that, whenever Nettle had grown irritated with her father and asked her mother crossly why she had married the man.

But Nettle forgot her parents in those clouds, just as you forget everything when exposed to such joys.

            Until another thought occurred to her. Peter Pan had everything. Everything. But no one to share it with, save Tink, who, though great company (Peter had told her this) was rather irritable and, unavoidably not human.

For a while, Nettle stopped flying to think this over. How would she feel, trapped in this paradise with no one there to share it with. Peter Pan needed his Wendy. Perhaps, thought Nettle, that was why you needed to fall in love. To share paradise with someone you cared about, to share with someone you truly loved.

            Wondering where Peter was, Nettle looked wildly around and spotted him hovering only a few centimetres, his face was hidden by the shadow of his golden curls, and Nettle came to hover opposite him. Her eyes watching his sad face carefully.

'Is this what its been like?' she whispered. 'Having such a paradise with no one to share it with.'

Peter nodded, a tear sliding uncharacteristically down his cheek. He dropped, so that he was merely sitting on the surface of the water and Nettle remembered what he had said about maintaining happy thoughts.

'Then let us go now.' She breathed excitedly, and reached out, she seized his hand and pulled him hard upward.

He looked up.

'Show me the way.' She demanded, her brown eyes sparkling. 'Neverland doesn't need a king who's always sad.'

At this, Tink began tugging at his hair, making a smile play on Peter's lips.

'Alright!' he cried, 'We'll go now.' And he leapt up, pulling Nettle by the hand and sending them both into the world of London.

--

            'Do you always come here by night?' Nettle enquired softly as they flew through the cool night air of London. The streets were quiet, save for the sound of dogs, and Nettle was glad when they passed her own neighbourhood, calming herself that she would not go back until she had helped Peter Pan.

            Briefly, she considered what would happen to her after she had done what she meant to. Now that they were here, in London, the whole idea seemed crazy. Who was she to interfere in this boy and girl's life? What was she in this?

Why had Tink selected her from a million other beds in the bedrooms of London?

But then, she was here, flying across the cool night sky with the most magical boy she had ever met, and, as the brief flash of his lips against his true love's flickered across her mind, her eyes focused determinedly.

Wendy and Peter were meant to be. And if no one else would re-unite them, who would?

Surprisingly, she felt a little nervous at consulting a girl older than herself: especially since she found her to be quite an inspiration. What other girl did she know of that fought pirates?

The thought of the pirates made her heart thump excitedly and, as they glided lazily over the terraced houses, Peter gave a small cry of delight as he spotted the house, and dipped low to fly to it, Nettle following suit.

Peter landed and Nettle surveyed the spot where Peter and Wendy had last said goodbye. It was strangely familiar, and quite picturesque: the frame being long and tall, large enough for a grown man to step out of should it be thrown open, stained glass filled the small portions of the inside frame, and Nettle stoked the colours, marvelling at the artistic value of the things.

'Beautiful,' she whispered, and, landing next to Peter, she felt too the sudden cold and felt a shiver shoot up her spine.

As she watched the window, a stained yellow portion began to illuminate two figures moving inside the frame, and Nettle squinted to look. The movements were fast and quick, suggesting anger, and as Nettle leaned yet closer, more to the gap were the frame opened, she heard voices.

'Darling, I don't like the situation much more tan you do, but poppet…'

'_What_ father? Why do insist on marrying me off when you know I want to remain with you and become a novelist!' The second voice was shrill and brisk, a hard tone on her voice.

_Wendy _she thought silently, _that must be Peter's Wendy._

'A novelist, darling, we've been through this… 'tis a most unstable job. I don't know why you keep insisting… and Mr Bramble's son is a fine young man!'

'Father!' Wendy growled, her voice gaining a decibel, 'I don't _care_ about whether he's a good man or not… I can't marry him… I'm only sixteen!'

'Now Wendy, you know what Aunt Millicent said… its all for the best after all, and the sooner you're married…'

'The sooner I get to become Bramble's petty little housewife in the countryside?' Wendy's voice was full of scorn and anger and Nettle heard Mr Darling falter as if Wendy had brandished a whip.

'Wendy! I won't have you talking like that… I…'

'Well _I _won't be married! And I will become a novelist! Just you wait, father! You can't stop me!'

'Yes I bloody well can, Wendy Darling!'

'Then I'll run away!'

'Run away to where? Go on, tell me where you intend to go!'

'Neverland!' Wendy declared, and then stopped suddenly. Clearly she hadn't intended to say it.

'I won't have this!' Mr darling suddenly exploded into the awkward silence, 'You will stop living in your own mad imagination! Grow up, Wendy Darling, or get out!'

Nettle heard the harsh slam of a door, the rattling of the walls, and then the horrible still of the storm that has finally settled.

So. That was why Wendy could not return to Neverland. That was why her dreams were being utterly denied of her.

Nettle could not being herself to look at Peter, and so, gathering her courage, brought her fist to the window and knocked.


	5. Wendy

Silence met the sound of Nettle's rapping knuckles.

'Peter?' whispered a small voice, much more like a girl than a woman. Nettle looked across at Peter. His eyes were solemn and grave.

'Peter is that you?'

Nettle opened her mouth to speak, before she heard the sound of soft footsteps, and a shadow emerged before the window. Suddenly overcome with no idea what she was going to say, Nettle flew back from the window, and waited for it to swing open.

When it did, she found herself looking at a very beautiful young woman.

Glossy, honey brown hair that hung in waves surrounded a round and pretty face, with eyes as blue and adventurous as Peter's. Her mouth was pink and a smile creased the corners. She was wearing a pressed linen nightdress, sleeveless with frills spilling down it's front. As the cloth left her breasts it became free and long, so long it covered her feet, leaving small pink toes poking out.

Nettle was not surprised to see a thick novel under Wendy's arm.

But Wendy was most certainly surprised to see her. Her eyes widened as she took in this new child, and, though her breath caught in her throat she managed to croak,

'Who are you?'

Nettle smiled, wrinkling her nose at how sweet at clear the voice was.

'My name is Nettle.' She said quietly. She looked around.

Where was Peter? She looked around, and spotted him crouching on Wendy's cupboard. How had he got up there?

How could Wendy not have seen him?

'Are you from Neverland?' Wendy whispered, her heart in her throat.

Nettle shook her head, silky curls settling over one of her eyes, and she saw disappointment flicker in Wendy's eyes.

'He has not come then.' She said to herself, and seemed unconscious of the tears that brimmed in her eyes and began to spill down pink cheeks.

'Not _from _Neverland,' Nettle said hastily, 'But that is where I flew from.'

Wendy looked at her, eyes alight and shining. 'You've seen Peter?' she whispered.

'Yes.' Nettle said, frowning as she watched Peter on the cupboard. He was staring at Wendy, shaking with grief. Tears pittered down his face, rolling off his nose and down his chin. He sniffed loudly, but the curious thing was… Wendy did not notice.

'What of him?' Wendy asked tentatively. 'Is he well?'

'Why don't you ask him yourself?' Nettle said. 'He's in your room.'

Wendy whirled around, her brown hair flying off her shoulders. 'Where?' she breathed.

Nettle's frown deepened. 'Atop your cupboard… can you…. Can you not see him?'

Wendy turned, fresh tears in her eyes. This time there was despair in her voice. 'No.'

Nettle felt the grief from the pair of them so strong that it made her too feel depressed and dull.

'But… I don't understand!' she cried, 'I see him, he sees you. How is it you don't see him? Peter, say something!'

Peter shook him head, smiling sadly. 'She has not seen me for years, Nettle.'

'But…' Nettle looked back at Wendy, who sank into a chair, eyes closed, and for a moment, Nettle was frightened by the old look on that gorgeous young face.

Nervously, she came to sit on the windowsill, and, gingerly, she reached out and touched Wendy's arm.

'He says you have not seen him for years.'

Wendy let out a sob. 'No.' her breath became soft and queer. 'Oh, Peter. Have I become so old that we are never to see each other again? Am I doomed to become the housewife this life condemns me to?'

Nettle felt a pang of sorrow. And then, quite suddenly, a surge of determination seized her and she stood, her eyes on fire.

'This is stupid.' She declared. 'I don't know why I'm here, Wendy Darling. I don't know why Tinkerbelle picked me out of every other child in London. But I must be here for a reason. I don't know what love is, but damn it, I know where to sew the stitches when it needs to be repaired!'

Wendy looked at her, her eyes alight, and suddenly, a burst of laughter escaped her. A clear, sweet sound that permeated the air with warm, kind tones.

'How like Peter you are!' she smiled, blue eyes bright and sparkling.


	6. Return To Childhood

Nettle was so engrossed in talking to such an interesting young woman, that she did not notice that Peter had gone, and Tink with him.

She stood up quickly, and began to look around, her face creased into a small frown. 'Peter? Peter?' she called, looking most closely at the sky showing in the frame of Wendy's elongated window.

Wendy looked sadly at her thickly carpeted floor. 'I wish I could tell him how much I love him,' she sighed, brushing a glossy, honey-bran lock behind her ear.

Nettle looked back at her, and suddenly felt much older than she felt she should.

'He knows you love him.' She said simply. 'Even I can tell and I haven't a clue what love really is.'

Wendy's eyes glowed with sympathy but Nettle shrugged the look off. 'Nah,' she said smiling, 'I don't want love. I'm too young.'

'I was your age when I fell in love with Peter,' Wendy reminded her, and Nettle gave her an acknowledging nod.

'I know.' She said quietly, 'but I'm not like you in that way.'

Wendy's pink lips twitched into a half-smile. 'Yes. I know.'

'Will he come back?' Nettle wondered, staring out the window, talking to herself more than to Wendy.'

'Yes.' Wendy answered, not noticing whom the question was directed at. 'He will.'

For a moment, Nettle almost threw her hands up in the air in a movement of frustrated exasperation. _This is impossible!_ She thought suddenly, her heart sinking, _how am I supposed to bring them together if they can't even _see_ each other?_

She looked back at Wendy, masking her apprehension with a brief smile.

Wendy was not fooled. Apparently, her time as mother to the Lost Boys had also given her the sight a mother possesses when she knows her child has a preoccupation.

'You have courage, Nettle, dear.' She said softly. 'And I'm sorry to say that, it doesn't look like this is going to happen. I'm sorry.'

Nettle's ears pricked.

All in one moment she saw the little girl on the ship, blue eyes alight chanting, _"I do believe in faeries, I do! I do!"_

And something… someone flicked on a light inside her head.

'Stop right there!' she said, raising a threatening finger to Wendy. Suddenly she saw it. If Wendy continued to be this…_adult _then there was almost no hope for both her and Peter's love.

'Stop what?' Wendy asked, looking rather abashed.

'Enough!' Nettle said, glaring. 'I know what hides inside you! It's the bud of an adult!'

'What nonsense!' Wendy cried, standing up to comfort her dignity in standing over the younger, smaller girl.

Nettle, however, lifted to the air so that she was at eye level with the young woman.

'Sit down, thou foolish adult!' she growled, and saw Wendy frown haughtily.

'What? Nettle, I…'

'Don't you see it?' Nettle asked, as Wendy shook her head.

'You're becoming an adult!' Nettle shrieked, her voice high, 'You're becoming what you're already swearing not to become!'

'I'm not!' Wendy retorted, but Nettle cut across.

 'Look!' Nettle crowed. 'There! Denial! Refusing to accept when one is wrong! Accepting the inevitable! Children…and teenagers don't do that! Snap out of it Wendy Darling!'

Wendy suddenly sat down with a thump. 'But… I…'

'That's what's wrong!' Nettle said, somewhat more quietly.

'You're not even out of this window and you're already accepting what an adult would! I can tell. You accepted what your adult mind told you. That seeing Peter is impossible, when somewhere inside you, everything else screams that you can.'

Wendy shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. 'You're right,' she said in despair. 'I am. I'm growing up.'

'Stop it!' Nettle shrieked.

Wendy suddenly realized what she was saying and her head snapped up, making her long glossy hair flip up.

'Am not!' she squealed. 'I am not growing up! Ever! I'll stay a child forever! Always! Forever, and ever. I believe in faeries!'

She looked at Nettle, eyes glowing, 'I believe in faeries!' she squeaked insanely.

'I BELIEVE IN FAERIES I DO I DO! I BELIEVE IN FAERIES, I BELIEVE IN FAERIES!'

Suddenly, Nettle gasped as she realized Wendy was no longer standing on the ground.

'I BELIEVE IN FAERIES!' Nettle crowed back, laughing.

'I BELIEVE IN FAERIES!' Wendy called back, somersaulting, her laugh ringing out in loud, echoing peals, 'I LOVE PETER PAN!'

Suddenly, the two girls were flying about the room for the sheer joy of merely being alive, Wendy caught Nettle's arm in mid-air and the two of them performed a mad sort of jig in mid-air, laughing, clutching their sides, giggling as if they had never laughed before.

They stopped suddenly and hugged each other, and came to rest on the ground, panting from the insane dance.

Nettle's eyes returned to the window, as she suddenly felt a presence, standing there, eyes filled with tears, was Peter.

Nettle looked pointedly at Wendy, who followed her gaze.

Her eyes widened like saucers as she saw him, and through his blurred vision, Peter's eyes sparkled.

'OH PETER!' Wendy squealed, and threw herself at him, throwing herself into his arms, which encircled her a tight embrace that promised never, ever to let go.

'Never.' He breathed softly into her honey-brown hair, smelling it. 'Never never.'

SNIFF! Aww, I'm glad they're back together – THIS ISN'T THE END!!! I have more to write!!!

Wild Blood Rose


	7. Where She Belongs

A/N: OMG love Peter Pan. So much. Obv not as much as Wendy but whatever. Ok, chapter…

Possibly there couldn't have been a more charming scene. Wendy sat there on the bed, warm and safe inside her lover's arms.

Her hair fell against his front, the warmth of his tanned skin. Slowly, she dragged her fingers through his unruly blonde curls. Her fingers found the swoop of his nose, the soft edges of those beautiful clear eyes.

Peter's own eager fingers swept up to pull themselves around her neck, stroking silky brown hair, the flat of his knuckles touching her cheek gently.

Tentatively, their lips met as they had so many years ago, softly plucking at each other's senses.

_Love you_, he thought, directly at her. _I love you more than anything. _

_More than life itself. _Wendy thought directly back, sniffing back tears of joy.

It was indeed a lovely sight, and there was only two to see it. One was a strange girl, clad in white nightgown soft brown curls spilling down her back. The other was a brightly illuminated sprite, golden hair piled to her head. Elegantly dressed, pieces of leaves made her tiny dress, with a minute dagger in the belt.

The girl could have seen it, but she preferred not to intrude of the tender reunion of the lovers. Instead she looked out to the vacant sky and the moon that had taken her to Neverland. The faery danced upon her knee, strutting noisily in a happy dance.

Nettle Morris glanced at the houses so many miles away, and thought of what other experiences she had had of love. Sadly, this was the closest to love she thought she had ever been, in watching a pair meant to be together re-unite in sweet caresses, long, careful gazes at each others faces, tears being brushed away by the other's hand.

It was so beautiful Nettle wanted to laugh and cry and lie in another's arms all in the same moment. But, for some reason, Nettle felt she could not be happy.

What lay for her back in her own room was somehow no comfort to her, it was empty. A life she felt would be hell to return too. She wanted Neverland. That would be a heaven. A glade in which she could share… Anyway, maybe she ought to leave now so save herself the pain of being told Neverland was for the lovers now. Or else she'd be ignored. Lost.

            Slowly, dully, she summoned the thought of flying to her – the happiest thought she had at present, and felt her body lift mechanically from the windowsill and drift on into the night.

Tinkerbelle watched her go. Knowing no amount of faery persuasion would lure her back to the windowsill. Still, Tinkerbelle sighed heavily. Something wasn't right. The girl's duty was not yet fulfilled, even though it was no duty she had assigned herself.

Tinkerbelle, being a faery had not the thought to consider what the next of Nettle's task would be, but anyhow, she flew frantically after the brown haired child, squeaking in high, tinkling hurriedness – a rushing sound that is common trait of faery.

Nettle turned as she heard, her face strangely calm and impassive.

'What is it Tink?' she said heavily.

'Let them be happy. I… I am so glad for them.'

Not finished! Tink squealed desperately.

Not finished, little weed!

'What do you mean?' Nettle asked dully, 'They are happy, let it be so!'

Not yet! Tinkerbelle argued.

Nettle frowned. 'Yes. Finished. Done. Let me go and… and live.' Her heart sank as she thought _and grow old. _

No. To grow old. What an awful thought. What madness would she sink into as a grown woman?

She sighed, flew forward and away form Tinkerbelle, demonstrating a sudden spurt of speed, however unenthusiastic the thought was behind it.

Tinkerbelle stamped her foot in mid air, a sign of frustrated anger. Tink's short temper was almost ready to be unsheathed, but she kept it down, for the sake of Peter, for Wendy, and for Nettle.

She racked her brains hard, and jumped as the word she was looking for came into her head.

Married! she squealed suddenly, Wendy to be married!

Nettle whirled around, a movement that took her considerably higher in the air. With this new task came the relief of going home – at least for a while.

'Of course!' she said suddenly flying away and past Tinkerbelle, but even as she did the thought settled heavy in her – how on earth could she solve this? Marriage? She could not brake up a marriage surely? A brief image of Peter and Wendy flashed into her brain. Of course she could break up a wedding. For the sakes of two who were so clearly meant for each other.

            Nettle was a little touched to find the two lovers scanning the skies for her as she flew back to the windowsill. 'Where did you go?' Wendy asked, 'for a moment I thought you'd gone home!'

She pulled Nettle into a tight embrace as the girl landed on the edge of the sill, and Nettle returned the hug awkwardly. 'Thank-you Nettle,' Wendy breathed, 'You've… you've brought me back…'

Wendy cringed and giggled. 'I sound far too grown up!' she cried.

Peter grinned at her, flew to Nettle and kissed the girl lightly on the cheek.

Nettle blushed furiously and Wendy laughed, Peter coming away with a slightly arrogant smile.

One that Nettle knew was perpetual.

She sighed, and spoke.

'Wendy lady, Peter.'

She curtsied, and both returned the formality. 'My duty is almost done,' Nettle pronounced, knowing not where the words came from.

'But there is one last matter for my destiny to meet: what you plan to do now.'

Both frowned, oddly, and then smiled. 'I hadn't thought of that,' Peter admitted.

 'Neither have I,' Wendy said, her smile drooped in one corner of her mouth.

'What is it?' Peter asked, his hand slipping into hers subconsciously.

Nettle smiled. _Meant to be. _She thought.

'The wedding,' Nettle and Wendy said in one voice and filled with the disappointed tones of a child who had been denied their favourite toy.

Peter's bright eyes became suddenly dull and his heart sank.

'Formalities,' he said finally, waving his hand to emphasize the dismissal.

'We have only to take the second star to the right…'

'And then straight on 'til morning,' Wendy whispered, raising his hand to her mouth so that she might kiss it.

'Yes, Peter, I know.'

Nettle uttered a small laugh. 'You two…' she muttered, watching them with admirable eyes.

Both smiled bashfully.

'Lets go then,' Peter said, smiling. 'To Neverland!'

'Peter,' Wendy touched Peter's arm, giving him a meaningful look. 'I can't _just go_. I can't _just leave_. I have to…'

Suddenly everything clicked into place, right before Nettle's eyes, and her heart sank as she realised that Peter and Wendy hadn't needed her after all.

'You did before, Wendy.' She said sadly. 'You can again, you know.'

Wendy looked at her, blue eyes suddenly bright and full of tears.

'Oh. Yes…'

 **A/N: Ok… I really don't know where to go from here – any suggestions? I think maybe if you tell me what you really want to happen next and I'll just write. Obviously that means you have to REVIEW!!! Please I need many of them! Thank you darling reader!**

**Wild Blood Rose**


	8. The Children Of Neverland

A/N: This is the last you will see of Nettle and Peter Pan – Yes, last chappie! I did so love getting your reviews they inspired me in every way! Right... here we go... It's short but sweet, I think, and I hope you enjoy it!

Wendy held her breath, looking past her bedroom window, and her eyes filled with tears.

'I belong with you, Peter.' She whispered carefully. 'I always will.'

Peter gave her a reassuring smile that stretched right beyond those haunting blue eyes, eyes that plunged into your heart and lifted it with tender fingertips.

'Then, there need be no wedding.' Nettle agreed. 'I shall miss you both.'

Peter frowned at her, 'Don't be foolish!' he laughed, 'You're coming with us!'

Nettle looked up, startled, her mind reverted now to her parents...

'That is, only if you wish it, Nettle,' Wendy added kindly.

Nettle felt tears prick round the back of her eyes, and slowly they rolled out onto her cheek, staining them red.

Wendy reached out and pulled her close, 'It is hard.' She whispered, 'I never thought I...' she looked at Peter again and the love she met in his eyes was too beautiful to bear. She loved him more than anything she had ever dreamed of.

Nettle pulled away, suddenly frightened.

'I'm not sure I _could _live with you,' she admitted.

'I would be so alone.'

Peter snorted, 'Alone?' he cried, 'Never! There are the mermaids, the Pirates, the Lost Boys, Tinkerbelle!'

'The Lost Boys!' Wendy exclaimed, 'But they are so old now! They live here, in London.'

'Nonsense!' Peter argued, 'they are only Eleven or twelve. Tink did it – it took time, but she did.'

Nettle felt something stir inside her. Was this real? Was she really to live in that paradise?

She thought of her home. What would it be without her? How could she abandon the parents who raised her?

Slowly, she turned to look at the lovers, their hands wrapped in each other's warm grasp. 'Alright,' she whispered, 'I'll come.'

They are there now, Peter and Wendy and the Lost Boys... and The Girl. Together now, as one. The Pirates still fight, and the mermaids still sing, but always there will be that land, open to those who can find it... up, look at the moon and choose the second tar to it's right – that is all you have to do. An acceleration and straight on 'til morning.

There they dance, the children of the Neverland.


End file.
